


Promise

by sparkinside



Category: AFI
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinside/pseuds/sparkinside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memories fill their home and wading through them is harder than she ever could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing in this piece ever happened. I claim no ownership nor do I make any sort of profit from this, other than pride and a sense of amusement.

A few small boxes lined the now empty livingroom. It was strange really, the fact that the life they’d taken years to build could so easily be packed away in boxes and storage lockers. That in merely a manner of days everything that had once stood was gone.

Her eyes darted around the empty room, settling on the window seat overlooking the backyard. It seemed so strange not to see it covered in his favorite throw with a small pile of books lining the floor beside it. As much as she’d hated it, it was a sight that meant home to her. 

From there they traveled along the empty wall were their bookcase used to rest. If she closed her eyes, she could still picture him struggling to put it together. She’d laughed at him then; tools spread all over the floor, eyes narrowed in concentration and frustration when he couldn’t get the last piece to fit the way it was supposed to for the hundredth time. 

He was never one to bother with instructions, preferring to simply figure everything out on his own. The consequences of this way of thinking had gotten him into more interesting situations than either of them could really think on, but it was him. She smiled softy, remembering the way the grin spread so widely across his face when he’d finally figured it out. She’d never had the heart to tell him that the only reason it had remained level after he’d built it was the thin piece of wood she’d shoved under the far left edge. Why ruin it for him?

She walked further into the room, remembering the nights they’d stayed up well into the night, curled up by the fireplace, never mind the fact that they’d never really used it, simply talking about nothing at all. That was the one thing about them that had never really changed. No matter what the situation, they could spend hours talking about the silliest of things. She loved those nights, loved the ability it gave her to get into his head. It was the things like that she missed the most. 

A soft wind echoed against the wooden shutters lining the back windows, producing the familiar creak that had scared her out of her wits the first night they’d moved into the house. He’d laughed and pulled her tightly against him, promising to protect her from the evil wind. She’d only glared back at him in response, not willing to admit to the fact that his simple promise made her feel safer. 

This hadn’t been the house of her dreams when he’d first brought her out to see it. The roof leaked, the front door never seemed to close completely, the rooms were drafty and the backyard was a complete joke. But he’d loved it, and for that fact alone she couldn’t tell him no. It had taken them a good year and a half to fix most of the ills the house possessed, though to this day the stupid front door refused to shut completely. Something he had continued to promise her he’d fix. Now it didn’t seem to matter anymore.

She shook herself from that thought, knowing that she needed to leave but finding it nearly impossible to walk away. She moved slowly from the livingroom, passing the now barren kitchen. If she allowed herself to stare long enough she could still see the faint traces of flour that she never could clean up completely from the many mornings when they’d both attempted to make pancakes. Most of the ingredients and the batter ended up on the floor, he never could cook a meal without making some sort of mess. Whether it was the flour he’d tossed at her when she pretended to ignore him or the fact that he couldn’t seem to get the soy milk from the carton to the measuring cup and into the mixing bowl without spilling at least half of it all over the counter, it wasn’t ever truly right if there wasn’t some mess left to clean once the meal was done.

The empty walls that remained now were strange, sterile almost. She could still feel him but it would never be the same. She slowly found herself ascending the wooden stair case leading to the second level of the house. It was an odd comfort to hear the third stair creak under her weight as it had always done. Some things would never change. 

The tattered rug that had sat at the top of the stairs was gone and it jarred her for a moment. The rug had been his grandmother’s, something he’d held onto for reasons she had never fully understood. It had been riddled with moth holes when he’d first laid it out there and time had only been worse to it as the years passed, but it was something he’d insisted on keeping around and for that she’d let it stay. 

Her mind flitted slowly from memory to memory as she passed what had been their old guest bedroom and the small office he’d used for recording whenever he’d had the chance. It was certainly nothing in comparison to the studio’s he’d worked in when he was in town, but it gave him the freedom to mess around and still spend time with her. 

It drove her crazy sometimes, though, the fact that he would play the same thirty second part of whatever song he was working on again and again until he could sort out just what needed to be fixed to make it perfect. He’d always been a perfectionist when it came to his music. Never letting a single part of it slip away without being completely satisfied. Even if it meant spending day and night locked in that office, only bothering to take a break when she’d come by with a plate of food or bottle of water. Sometimes she really did believe that room was more of a curse than it was a blessing.

Slowly, she rounded the corner, bringing herself face to face their bedroom. The door had been pulled too, something the movers must have done when they’d gotten the last of the boxes. She found herself staring at the distressed wood unable to push it open any further. Not sure if she truly wanted to. 

It took her several minutes to gather herself before she pushed slowly on the middle of the door allowing it to swing open into the darkened room. She didn’t bother reaching for the light switch, not completely sure she could handle seeing the stark white walls that now lay bare before her. She took a deep breath, allowing herself to remember the mornings when she would find herself awake hours before he even dared to consider rejoining the conscious world, watching him as he slept. Or the times he’d prompt random pillow fights and tickling sessions just because he could.

If she closed her eyes, she could still faintly hear his laughter, her mind flashing back to the nights were he’d held her as they laid sideways across the bed watching the classic movies she loved or the ones he’d suggested they’d watch. Small things, simple things. He had never been a complicated person and she’d loved that about him. He would have done anything for her, and it was that fact alone that took him from her. 

It had been months and the guilt still stung as sharply as it ever had. It should have been a quick trip, nothing difficult, nothing complicated. She’d wanted ice cream, real ice cream, and despite his feelings on the matter, he hadn’t hesitated when she’d voiced her desire. He’d kissed her softly, pulling himself off of the bed. She’d paused the movie as he pulled on his shoes, knowing he didn’t want to miss the upcoming scene, even if he had seen the film at least a hundred times.

With the promise of returning soon, he’d made his way out of the room and a few moments later she heard his car roaring to life. Leaning back against the headboard, she allowed herself to shut her eyes. The shrill ring of the phone had jolted her back into consciousness. Blindly she’d reached for it, knocking off the book he’d left on the night stand in the process. The words that greeted her still echoed in her mind.

“There’s been an accident..Hit on the driver’s side...Died instantly...I’m so sorry.”

It had been the first time he’d ever broken a promise. That was the only thing running through her head in the days that followed. He’d broken his promise. How she had made it through the funeral, even she didn’t understand. All she knew was that the house and everything in it screamed of him and it was too much. She couldn’t stay, she couldn’t live with his ghost. 

With a heavy sob, she allowed herself to fall back against the wall behind her, her hand slowing coming to rest against her growing abdomen. Silent tears slid down her cheeks, burning her skin as she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She was terrified and for the first time she realized he would no longer be there to protect her.


End file.
